


Don't Know You Super Well But I Think That You Might Be The Same As Me

by salvetepuellae



Series: Lorde Inspired Fics [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Kissing, M/M, World Juniors Baybee!, anti USA hockey sentiment, this is a fun one! no sad vibes this time!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:00:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27944204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salvetepuellae/pseuds/salvetepuellae
Summary: Team Canada on home ice, playing to redeem themselves from last year’s mediocre finish, versus their greatest rival. Mat’s stomach churns, and he takes a swig of whatever ungodly concoction has made its way into his red plastic up.
Relationships: Mathew Barzal/Thomas Chabot
Series: Lorde Inspired Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040669
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Don't Know You Super Well But I Think That You Might Be The Same As Me

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration from Homemade Dynamite by Lorde.  
> Set during the 2017 World Juniors championship. If you haven't seen Mat Barzal crying when they lose to the US in the gold medal game, you haven't felt true heartbreak. Honestly go and look at this team it makes me fully insane.  
> Thomas Chabot deserves more love ngl sorry to him for being on the Sens.  
> Can be read as a standalone, but mentions characters that appear in other parts!  
> Thank you to my lovely friend for reading this over!  
> CW: Alcohol mention but no one is drunk or anything

It’s the 30th of December, and someone has turned the heating up way too high in the hotel room – even for Toronto in winter. They’ve got the night off, and Mat thinks it’s Dylan’s room that they’ve colonised for team bonding purposes, but he can’t be sure. They play the States tomorrow, are going into it with a perfect record. It’d be comforting if the States weren’t also a perfect 3 and 0.

The game is a big deal. It’s just a round robin game, but it’s also going to decide the top seed heading into the finals. Team Canada on home ice, playing to redeem themselves from last year’s mediocre finish, versus their greatest rival. Mat’s stomach churns, and he takes a swig of whatever ungodly concoction has made its way into his red plastic up.

The boys have raided the minibar – thanks Hockey Canada – but there’s definitely not enough to go around for all 22 of them. Mat would be thankful if it gave him even just a pleasant buzz. Most of the available space has been filled - last time Mat had counted they’d squeezed six guys onto one single bed. Mat’s on the floor, his back to one of the beds, his feet pressed up against the other.

He’s next to Thomas Chabot, his French Canadian alternate captain. Mat doesn’t know him super well, they were here together in 2016 but had mostly stuck to the W boys and the Q boys respectively. Mat has to commend Hockey Canada this time around on their efforts to keep the captaincies apolitical – Chabby from the Q, Mat from the W, and Dylan from the O keeps things nice and even. They all keep their respective factions in line, and Mat isn’t totally bothered the C went to an Ontario boy – he’s not sure he’d want it this year of all years.

People think Chabot is quiet, but Mat knows enough French to dispute that. He’s always making the Q boys laugh, telling jokes at the expenses of the English speakers that Mat won’t disclose in the interest of team harmony. He’s a pillar for the defence too, plays more minutes than anyone on the team but the goalies. Mat figures now is as good as time as any to chat with his fellow A, to sus out his feelings about the States.

He flashes a grin at Chabot, trying for charming and probably nailing it.

“So, perfect record huh?” he asks, and manages to keep his voice from wavering with nerves.

Chabot looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. His face is angular, sharp cheekbones and a decent jawline. He isn’t smiling back at Mat, but his eyes are light, playful almost.

“You got sent down this year,” he replies, accent underpinning the words. It’s not a question, and Mat quashes the urge to be a little ruffled by it.

“Yeah…” he says slowly, though he doesn’t suspect Chabot wanted confirmation.

“So you know we have to win tomorrow,” Chabot says, matter of fact. He’s nonchalant, the picture of relaxed indifference, like the States may as well be Latvia for all he cares. It’d be impressive, if Mat didn’t recognise the game immediately. Chabot is prodding at him, trying to find any stress or anxiety Mat might have bottled up, trying to see if he can cope with the pressure. Mat won’t be beaten at his own game, not by a guy who was also here last year, who wasn’t able to make it in _Ottawa._

He shrugs and makes a quip about how strong their defence is going to have to be against a high octane American offence. They both know the D core relies entirely on Chabot’s performance.

Chabot replies confidently, “I’ll make it work,” and looks straight ahead as he takes a swig of whatever is in his cup. Mat follows his gaze to where Dylan is pacing back and forth. He’s surrounded by the O boys, sitting on the bed and the floor in front of him. Dylan is yammering on about something, his hands fiddling as he does. It kind of looks like he’s trying to reassure the O boys, but his body language makes it fairly obvious its mostly for his own benefit.

Watching Dylan makes the stress seep in around the edges of Mat’s brain. For all the criticism of Dylan, he’s a good captain, and seeing him thirty seconds from tearing his hair out over the States isn’t exactly the most steadfast and relieving picture. Mat is sure to keep his expression neutral, just as level headed as Chabot’s as they watch Dylan gesticulate wildly.

“He’s kind of a headcase,” Chabot says, and it startles a laugh out of Mat. It’s big – more of a cackle really, and when he calms down enough to catch his breath he looks over at the other man and sees one corner of his mouth quirked up. Mat runs a hand through his hair and nods in agreement. Probably Dylan would fall apart if they weren’t there to keep things somewhat functional. He’s put a lot of pressure on himself for this tournament – all three of them returning have – but Dylan has the C.

Mat offers up his cup to Chabot in a toast and Chabot reciprocates. He clinks their glasses together, and says, “To the Team Canada Revenge Tour, Hockey Canada trademarked.”

Chabot smiles and lifts his cup to his lips. He doesn’t wince as he swallows, and Mat thinks maybe he’s somehow gotten his hands on some decent alcohol that Mat doesn’t know about. Chabot looks him right in the eyes while he drinks, and Mat feels his cheeks warm slightly.

It’s not a secret that Mat gets around. He hooks up at most tournaments, which has given him a reputation as a pretty crappy roommate. Honestly he doesn’t really even feel bad about sexiling guys anymore. Mostly, he tries to pick his moments, and he knows how to be discreet when the situation calls for it, but sometimes he’s got to settle for a sock on the door.

It _is_ a secret that he does it to keep him grounded. He likes that it gives him a few hours totally tethered to his body. He enjoys the fact it gives him an excuse to ignore the world for a bit. The night before they play the States seems like the kind of night he could use that distraction.

Mat eyes Chabot, who is cool and solid and relaxed next to him. He stands up, and Chabot’s eyes follow him.

“I’ve got nowhere to be,” Mat tells him, voice steady and assured, a suggestion.

Chabot eyes him pensively, and then stands as well. His careful façade remains intact until he puts weight on his left foot and winces. Mat recalls a slapshot he’d blocked against Slovakia, how the bench had collectively cringed as Chabot had limped his way to the bench. He’d been back out on the next shift, playing like nothing had happened.

Mat thinks about reaching out to put an arm around him and give him something to lean on, but by the time he makes to do it, Chabot’s expression has been schooled.

Mat leads them as they leave the room, and catches Dante asking him a silent question, checking in to see if this is a good idea. Mat nods, imperceptible, and Dante responds with a knowing look. Tyson, sitting next to him, is far less tactful and loudly asks where they’re going. He wiggles his eyebrows at Mat while he does so, and Dante elbows him in the side.

Mat opens his mouth, a snarky response on the tip of his tongue, but Chabot beats him to it.

“Nowhere you’re invited, Jost,” he says bluntly. It’s not unkind, but Tyson looks admonished while the W boys chuckle at his expense. Mat looks back at Chabot and grins, starts to wonder why he hadn’t gotten to know him before.

All the team Canada hotel rooms are on the same floor, so the walk to Mat’s is short. When the two men get inside, Mat takes a step towards Chabot, getting in his space.

“How is it that we haven’t spoken properly before?” Mat asks, voice low.

Chabot’s reply is in French, and Mat realises that maybe Chabot has been paying more attention to him than he thought. He parses the words together, gets as far as, “Just keeping up French versus Anglophone appearances,” before his brain zeroes in on Chabot’s fingers in his belt loops, tugging him closer

Chabot is a _phenomenal_ kisser. It’s fast and he’s clearly had plenty of practice at it. It doesn’t take him long to get his lips on Mat’s neck, kissing his way down and across his shoulder. Mat gets his hands under Chabot’s t-shirt and slides them along his abs. He trails his fingers along the top of his jeans, dipping his thumb below them, and feels Chabot shiver. Mat walks them backwards towards his bed, and pulls the other man down on top of him.

\---

Afterwards, they’re lying in Mat’s bed, Mat lazily tracing shapes on Chabot’s – “call me Thomas while we’re fucking, Mat” – stomach. He’s considering getting up to clean himself off, but his limbs are heavy with sleep and if he sets an alarm on his phone he’ll have time to in the morning.

Chabot looks down at Mat’s hand, following it as it loops over his abdomen. He then brings his gaze up to Mat’s face, raises an eyebrow and says, “So you’re not worried about the States, huh?”

Mat spares a moment to feel caught off guard, and his response comes just a second too late when he meets Chabot’s eyes and replies, “Not a chance.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Hockey Canada really did brand the tournament as the Team Canada Revenge Tour because the previous year a super stacked line up had come sixth or something.


End file.
